Balanced Souls
by Noch Provodnik
Summary: You wouldn't expect the granddaughter of Quillish Wammy to have a dark past and a very curious secret. But Rosalee does and now she must face a nightmare that's come back to haunt her.Can a certain reclusive detective help her end this distress with love?
1. Prologue: Awakening

**A/n:** Ah...finally! My third fanfic on ! To those of you who know me from my previous story...im so sorry! im still figuring out the sequel to _Believe_. and during that time i got inspired to do a story with Death Note. So, if you like the anime and L then you should read! :) To those of who i've never heard of...HI!!! *waves* lol This is a L/OC fanfic filled with romance, suspense, horror, and supernaturalness! So of course it is rated M for violence, language, lemony scenes...all that good stuff! which reminds me...there is somce violence in this prolgoue. just warning ya! hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Death Note or any of its fictional characters. I only own my fictional characters in this story...and maybe L when his creators aren't looking! lol jk!

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**Prologue: Awakening**

"Mum…what are you doing?" the little girl asked softly as she watched her mother frantically packs a suitcase full of clothes.

"We're leaving this place. After I'm done packing my things I'll help you do yours, okay?"

"Aren't you going to pack Dad's stuff?"

The mother stopped in her tracks and looked at her daughter. "No…he's staying here. It's only you and me leaving."

The little girl nodded in understanding. Just as the mother finished packing her suitcase the front door of the house creaked open and slammed shut. The sharp noise echoed throughout the house, startling the mother and daughter. "ANNE!!!" screamed an angry voice, terrifying the girl into tears.

"Damn…he's home early," the mother whispered softly. She looked through her bedroom door and saw her husband begin to stomp up the stairs. Quickly stepping back she grabbed her daughter and pushed her into the closet. "Stay here…I won't let him touch you," she told her daughter as she caressed her cheek protectively. Tears ran down the little girl's cheeks as Anne closed the closet door. When she turned around she saw her husband at the bedroom door, staring coldly at her. "You're home early," she said as she tried to look happy to see him.

"Don't play dumb, Anne. Where's the fucking money?"

"Money? I don't know what your-"

"The money that your filthy rich family has and what you're suppose to have! I didn't marry you for nothing, Anne!"

"My father cut me off because he doesn't approve you, Jack. I accepted it because I knew I would survive without the easy comforts money provides."

Jack walked slowly into the room. His eyes came upon the suitcase on the bed. "What's this?" he said as he pointed to it. "Were you going to leave without me? I'm not good enough for you?"

"You were my everything until you became abusive. So, now I'm stepping up and leaving you."

"Like hell you are," he sneered as he slaps her face, sending her to the floor. Anne fell back on the bed from the force of his blow. Jack took this opportunity to snatch a pair of scissors from Anne's sewing kit. The long thick shears twinkled in the light. This made Anne realize that the situation has become dangerous. She reached up towards her bedside table where a cell phone laid on its surface. _I just need to call for help…and protect my daughter. _

Before she reached the phone Jack was upon her, stabbing her over and over again. Blood splattered all over the bed and Jack's person, but he didn't let that faze him. Anne tried to block his deadly blows with her hands, but she couldn't stop them from cutting through her flesh. The blade pierced her heart and everything went black for her. Once Anne stopped moving Jack dropped the scissors and heads downstairs for a drink in the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of beer. As he closed the door he felt the building suddenly begin to shake. _An earthquake?_ Jack thought confusingly. All the windows crashed, littering the ground with glass. Dishes tumbled around and furniture was forcefully tipped over. Jack backed up to the nearest corner, waiting for the shaking to stop.

After a minute or so the shaking ceased and Jack thought he was safe…but he was wrong. Just a few feet away a plethora of kitchen knives were floating in the air. Jack's eyes widened with shock and fear. Then the knives jetted towards him, gleaming dangerously as they flew for the kill. Jack let out a blood curdling scream, but it was silenced quickly as the knives pierced his body. His body fell limp and blood slowly seeped though his clothes.

It was only a matter of time before the neighboring houses called the police to this gruesome scene of destruction, thus began the puzzling case of the Shilling Murders.

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_I know...this doesn't really tell you anything. and it doesn't seem to be about Death Note. But do not worry! all will be clear (well, sort of) in chapter one, which im about to upload after im done typing this up...yeah! *snoopy dances*_


	2. Chapter 1: The Shilling Murders

**A/n: **Here we go...just seconds after the prologue! So far it appears that this chapter has nothing to do with Death Note or our lovable recluse detective, but all will become clear at the end...i promise! The story is pre-Death Note right now. this chapter contains some violent descriptions and a tini-tiny bit of language that may not be very nice. so read at your own risk! but its not that bad...just giving a heads up! enjoy. :)

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**Chapter 1: The Shilling Murders**

"Jesus…what the hell happened here?" the policeman said as he and his comrade approached a small house near the coast of Brighton. An hour ago a neighboring house made a distressing call about loud, crashing sounds that were disturbing the whole neighborhood. The two policemen were sent to investigate the residence expecting to find some teenagers causing trouble or a married couple taking their argument too far…but nothing prepared them for what they saw.

All of the windows of the two level house were smashed in, even the top floor windows. The front door hung on its hinges, as if someone busted in with great force. Some housing tiles scattered the ground and the porch swing hung crooked, banging against the wall at a slow tempo due to a light wind from the coast. The policemen glanced at each other and nodded in agreement; they armed themselves with their guns and approached the house cautiously.

The first policeman, a short muscular man with neat blond hair, held his gun out in front of him as he stepped up on the porch. The other policeman, who is a bit taller then his companion and has no hair, covered his partner from behind. When all was clear he turned to his fellow comrade. "Well, Randy, do we just bust in or call for backup?" The blond policeman sighed. "We can't jump to conclusions, Paul…for all we know this house was vandalized by some punk teens. We don't want to make fools of ourselves and call more backup for a couple of stupid kids."

"Yeah, suppose you're right…but I have a feeling it isn't some teens having a go at breaking the law. I know you think my intuitive feelings are poppycock. It's just this place feels grim…I don't like it."

"Yeah," Randy muttered, "I know what ya mean. But we have to check it out just in case."

Paul nodded and covered his comrade again. Randy cleared his throat and held his gun at the door. "Mr. and Mrs. Shilling, we received a call about loud noises and shouting. We're here to see what's going on. Please cooperate and come out of the house."

_How can they cooperate if they're not alive?_ Paul thought. He shook his head and reminded himself not to jump to conclusions. They waited a couple minutes for the occupants to respond…but there was no sign of life. Randy furrowed his brow and cleared his throat again. "This is your last warning…if you don't cooperate we will be forced to enter and take you in." Again there was no sign of life. Randy turned his head towards Paul and nodded. This was the signal to proceed with caution and aggression.

Randy moved forward and pushed the broken door open with his foot. The first room they came upon was the living room. The floor was covered with broken bits of glass. The windows were smashed from the outside. A bookcase in the corner of the room has been tipped over, books strewn out on the ground. The TV's screen was also smashed, but the bits of glass from that were on the ground. The only for that to be possible is if someone smashed it from the back of the TV, but when Randy checked the back of the TV. was unscathed. Randy raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"How do ya suppose that happened?" he asked Paul while pointing to the glass from the TV's screen.

"It looks like it exploded," Paul commented as he searched around the room. He noticed the couch as upside-down against the wall. "Maybe whoever smashed it in tipped it over to spill the debris on the ground to confuse us?"

"Pff! That's ridiculous," Randy retorted but didn't comment any further. "It looks like a tornado came through here. No wonder the neighbors are complaining."

"Yeah…let's continue on to the next room," Paul said as he walked towards the next nearby room. It was a dining room, and once again all the windows were broken and glass littered the ground. China plates and silverware were among the bits of glass and the dining room table laid in two separate pieces. It was split right down the middle horizontally. The cut itself was jagged, as if someone just ripped the table like tissue paper. Paul looked at his comrade with raised eyebrows.

"This is getting a bit odd mate," he said as he spotted another doorway to a room. Randy nodded as he started for the next room. He opened the door and saw a stove and oven, more glass on the tiled floor, and a sink. As he walked into the kitchen he instantly spotted a puddle of blood. His eyes widened as he followed the blood's source in the far left corner of the room. "Oh, my dear God!" he exclaimed as he looked away. "What is it?" Paul asked as he turned around. Randy didn't even need to point out the horror.

It was Mr. Jack Shilling lying dead cold in his own blood. Protruding from various spots on his body are knives of many different sizes. The most gruesome spot was forehead, where a long thin kitchen knife is lodged in between his lifeless moss green eyes. A butcher knife is embedded in the soft flesh of his neck and several small steak knives decorate his upper body like a dartboard. His once white shirt is now mostly crimson and his well groomed beard was stained with blood flowing from the lethal gash of his head.

Paul instantly raised his gun and began to look around the room defensively. Randy shook away the nausea that began in his stomach and reached for his communicator on his belt. "This is Randy investigating the Shilling house! We've found Mr. Shilling dead! He's been stabbed numerous times! Over!"

The communicator clicked and a woman's voice answered. "Did you see any sign of Mrs. Shilling and her daughter? Over."

"No, we are about to investigate further. Over!"

"Alright. Backup is on its way. Please proceed with caution. Over."

Randy clipped his communicator back on his belt and examined Mr. Shilling's corpse a bit closer. All the knives are pushed down to the hilt, including the butcher knife and the long kitchen knife in his head. Mr. Shilling's expression is that of shock and fear. This made Randy shiver a bit, but he stood his ground. Paul came to his side, his gun still raised high.

"I checked the last room down here…nothing but glass and the loo is cracked," Paul informed.

"The loo's cracked?"

Paul nodded. Randy shook his head and growled in anger. "This is turning out to be really fucking weird! We still need to see if his poor bloke's wife and kid are here."

"I told you this felt grim when we arrived," Paul muttered as he stared down upon Mr. Shilling. Randy rolled his eyes. "This was a lucky guess. I'll really believe your little 'feelings' if the wife and kid are dead." Paul shrugged. Randy stepped out of the bloody room with Paul right in his heels. "C'mon, we need to see about the second floor," he muttered as he approached the staircase.

As they climbed the stairs they observed that the second floor only has three rooms. The first room they checked was another bathroom with the toilet cracked in half and the mirror shattered. The second room's door was wide open. In there they found another body. This time it was a woman with many gashes and cuts all over her body. It wasn't as gruesome as Mr. Shilling downstairs, but it was frightening nonetheless. Nest to the lifeless body laid a pair of good quality scissors coated heavily in blood.

"Well, there's Mrs. Shilling…such a shame. She must've been really pretty 'til now," Randy said as he looked over her. Its true, Mrs. Shilling was a very beautiful woman with startling blue eyes and bright blond hair, very lively compared to her husband's dark brown hair. The only thing that scared her beauty now was the horrible cuts across her chest, abdomen, and arms. The nastiest gash is the one right over her heart. It's very deep and it's probably what did her in.

"I bet you anything that the last room is the daughter's," Paul said matter-of-factly.

"Yes…but the real question is will we find her just as dead as her parents," Randy said darkly as he moved out of the room. The third room's door was closed. When the policemen opened it they did not find a dead body. All they could see was more glass and the bed has been tipped over. The room appeared to belong to a little girl since there many dolls scattered about the floor.

"Well, maybe she got away," Paul said hopefully. Randy shook his head. "I don't think so…whoever killed those people is dangerous and twisted. The killer could've kidnapped her, killed her, and dumped her body somewhere."

"Geez, Randy…be a little optimistic," Paul said seriously. Randy was about to answer back, but a soft noise caught their attention. They both look around. "What is that? Where is it coming from?" Randy asked as he cocked his gun up. "Whatever it is…its close by. It sounds like whimpering to me," Paul suggested as he followed his comrade's lead.

Indeed, it was a whimpering noise. It was coming from the closet inside the little girl's room. Both policemen positioned themselves on either side of the doorframe. Paul reached over for the doorknob, turned it, and jerked it open. Quick as lighting Randy stepped over in front of the open door defensively and pointed his gun. There in the middle of the closet sat a little girl clutching her knees to her chest. She hid her face with her long dark brown hair. When she looked up at Randy her oceanic eyes were filled with tears. This was undoubtedly Mr. and Mrs. Shilling's daughter.

Randy lowered his gun. The little girl continued to cry, quiet little sobs that made Randy feel a bad about pointing his gun at her. He put his gun in his holster and kneeled down. "Hey…it's okay. You're safe now. I'm here to make sure that you're okay," he said comfortingly, trying to calm the girl down. Paul moved his head around the door and smiled at the girl. "It seems to be a little girl," he said.

"No shit," Randy muttered under his breath. The little girl looked at them both, frightened of their sudden appearance. When they tried to reach for her she let out a squeal and cringed against the wall. Paul looked around and found a doll from the ground. "Hey, can you tell me her name?" he asked the girl, referring to the doll. The little girl eyed the doll for a minute and then Paul. When she felt satisfied that he was being genuine she said, "Laera."

Paul smiled. "Well, it seems Laera misses you and wants you to come out. She says it's not safe here."

The little girl stared at Paul for a moment. She reached for the pretty doll and held it close to her chest. "I'm not stupid. I know dolls can't really talk. If you want me out of here I'll have to see your badges."

Both Paul and Randy stared at the little girl in awed silence. The girl just simply stared back, waiting for their next move. Randy cleared his throat. "Well, you're certainly smarter than the average child," he said appraisingly as he took out his badge. Paul followed suit and showed his as well. The girl studied the badges and when she felt that they weren't fake she nodded and continued to hug the doll.

The policemen put up their badges. "Well, do you believe us? We want you safe and in order to do that we need to get you out of here," Randy stated. The girl sighed and stared up at the ceiling. She looked nervous and began twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. When the policemen thought she wasn't going to cooperate the girl suddenly stood up. "I'll go quietly," she muttered as she bowed her head, once again hiding her face with her hair.

Randy stood up and moved aside for her to get out of the closet. Paul grabs a nearby blanket and wraps it around the little girl. "It's a bit chilly out," he explained as he picked the girl up. He places a part of the blanket over her head, hiding everything from her sight completely. As they go downstairs Randy calls into his communicator. "We've found the Shilling's daughter. We're bringing her downtown while the investigation continues. Over."

"Okay. Backup should be there any second. Over."

As they walked outside an investigation van and four cop cars drive up and park in front of the house. Randy went to tell one of the officers about what they saw while Paul took the girl to their car. He sat her down in the back seat. "It's okay, sweetie…you're safe. All we're going to do is take you downtown and call your closest relatives so they can take care of you."

The girl didn't respond. She didn't question about all the police showing up or the whereabouts of her parents. All she did was hug her doll and tug at the blanket. Randy walked up beside Paul. "They need to know the girl's name for the report," he stated. Paul sighed and looked down at the girl. "Can you please tell us your name? It will help us out a lot with this," he said as he pointed towards the house. She answered with silence. Paul looked at Randy and shrugged. "Don't they have a regular information report about the residents?" he asked. "Yes, but for some reason it lacks information about her and her mother," Randy said irritated. Just as he was about to spin on his heel and walk away the little girl spoke.

"My name is Rosalee."

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"Well, what's going on?"

Randy and Paul are now in the chief's office. The little girl, Rosalee, is sitting outside in the hallway on a bench. She's still clutching her doll to her chest and pulling on a strand of hair. Her eyes were staring off into space, focusing on nothing in particular. She hasn't spoken a word since they left the crime scene.

The chief was a burly old man with a thick mustache. His balding head shined in the florescent light as he looked over the investigation notes. "It seems that Mr. Shilling killed his wife. They found his fingerprints on the scissors, her body, and the room. As for Mr. Shilling himself…they couldn't find any other fingerprints to get a lead."

"No fingerprints at all?" Paul asked astonished.

The chief shook his head. "There was none on the knives, the doors, the rooms, the windows, and his body. It's as if the killer murdered him without touching him. There wasn't even any sign of the killer hiding his tracks! It just doesn't make any sense…its got us stumped."

"Yeah, now that you mention it we thought it was weird all the windows was broken from the outside and the furniture looked as if someone just tore it up," Randy commented.

"Yes, that is a bit strange. We don't know what that's about it."

"How long do you suppose they were dead before we arrived?" Paul asked curiously.

"According to the report," the chief stated as he shuffled a couple of papers, "they were very fresh. They were killed just thirty minutes before you two arrived at the scene. Right now the team is gathering information for a suspect. I personally suspect a jealous lover of the wife, but I could be wrong."

"That makes sense…but to not leave a trace behind? That's abnormal!" Paul exclaimed. Randy placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "What about the girl?" Randy asked, steering the conversation else where.

"We did a background check on both parents. Mr. Shilling's parents died six years ago all the up in his home town Bournemouth. As for Mrs. Shilling…we couldn't find much information. All we could find out was her name, Anne, and that before she moved here she was a teacher at an orphanage for gifted children called Wammy's House in Winchester. Would one of you please call that place and figure out any other information about Anne's relations?"

"I will," Randy volunteered. He stood up and left the office. The chief was shuffling though papers restlessly, trying to find any hidden clues. Paul sat silently. He looked out in the hallway and saw Rosalee curled up in a ball. She was still clutching her doll and her other hand cushioned her cheek. A small smirk formed on Paul's lips. _That poor girl…I hope she hangs in okay_, he thought before turning away.

A few minutes later Randy came back. "Well, it turns out that Anne's father founded the orphanage. The man on the phone, I believe he said his name was Roger, said that Mr. Wammy is on his way here to pick up the girl."

The chief nodded his head in approval. "That's good. The only thing we're going to need is proof of his identity. If that checks out good then he can take her. It's best that she doesn't hang around here while we investigate the Shilling murders."

"When will Mr. Wammy arrive?" Paul asked concerned.

"Roger said he will be here in a few hours. I told him to inform Mr. Wammy that we will be questioning him about Anne for the investigation," Randy informed him. "By tomorrow Rosalee will be living with her grandfather."

As the police officers continued their conversation about murder and mystery Rosalee was still lying on the bench. Even though they used low voices she could still make out every word they were saying. She sighed and adjusted her position, switching hands to hold the doll. Even though she was just five years old she was extremely smart. She knew why she was here at the police station and why she must leave Brighton. They tried to get answers from her, but she kept silent, too afraid to speak. All she wanted now is to forget this whole day.

A few hours later, in the late evening, an old man arrived at the police station. He was wearing a pristine black suit with a matching bowler hat. Stark white hair sprouted from underneath his hat and a matching mustache rested on his upper lip. Blue eyes peered through a pair of glasses. He introduced himself as Quillish Wammy and proceeded to follow the policemen's procedures.

After all was clear they led the old man to room where they let Rosalee wait. When they enter the room Rosalee is putting together a blank puzzle. She has put up her hair into messy pigtails, which made her appear cuter. She just finished the puzzle when they entered.

"Wow…did you just finish that?" Paul asked impressed.

"No…this is the fourth time I've finished it," she merely stated and pushed the puzzle aside. Randy chuckled. "You have one smart granddaughter, Mr. Wammy," he muttered as he left the room. Paul soon followed suit, giving the girl and the old man some privacy.

Rosalee simply stared up into Quillish's kind face. Quillish gave a warm smile. "It's nice to finally meet you, Rosalee. I am Quillish Wammy, your grandfather." He gave a low courteous bow. It is true that Rosalee never met him…she's only heard stories of him from her mother. This peaked Rosalee's curiousness. She stood up and returned his courteous bow with a little curtsy. "Nice to meet you," she said shyly.

Quillish just continued to smile. He held out his hand. "We must hurry and get you settled in your new home," he said soothingly. Rosalee eyed his hand before gingerly taking it. As they left the police station Rosalee looked up at Quillish Wammy with wide blue eyes. "Papa…is there cake where we are going?"

Quillish chuckled. "Of course my dear! And we have all the tea in the world to wash it down with!"

For the first time today Rosalee genuinely smiled. Quillish smiled back as he led her to a classic black Mercedes. Just before they drove off Paul ran outside after them. Quillish rolled down the window as he produced the doll Rosalee has been holding all day. She smiled and grabbed the doll. "Thank you," she said softly. Paul just nodded and waved goodbye as they drove off.

"Rosalee?" Quillish said as he glanced at his granddaughter.

"Yes?"

"Your new home also happens to be a school. You will attend those classes and excel greatly in them. I doubt you will have trouble with that." He said his without being haughty; he was just merely stating an observation. Rosalee nodded and looked out the window. Quillish smiled and concentrated on the road. Together they were headed towards a new home…little did they know that this was only the beginning if some interesting events.

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_Okay, does it make a little sense now? and appearing in the next chapter is...you guessed it! eight year old L! YAY!!! so while im writing that you should review and tell me what you think! i'll give you the gummy worms im eating right now if you do! *wiggles worm*_


	3. Chapter 2: Great Minds Think Alike

**A/n: **Okay, so i wrote chapters 2-5 in the last two days...talk about work! but it helped that i was really bored...but hey! that's a good thing if people actually like this story. lol im going to stop talking now while you read. *zips lips*

OH! and thank you, Timekeeper101 for being my first review! :)

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**Chapter 2: Great Minds Think Alike**

Ever since Rosalee arrived at Wammy's House she has never once frowned. For the past two years she has been taking classes that match her level of intelligence. She's now seven years old and has become quite a little prodigy in a subject she took a great liking to…ballet. Her grandfather explained to her that Wammy's House finds a child's unique talent, and helps them excel in it far more than they could imagine. So, it was quite surprising to some that a five year old showed such discipline and dedication to this particular art.

Quillish Wammy has treated Rosalee kindly, much more so than her father. After a year of silence the police in Brighton called Roger, Mr. Wammy's partner, and shared what they found out. There are no leads to who killed Jack Shilling. Without any fingerprints or any other telling evidence they just couldn't crack the case. No other cases of murder like the Shilling Murders popped up around that area or in the town, pointing them no where. All they could say for a fact is that Anne Shilling, maiden name Wammy, was murdered by her husband. For now, the mystery of who killed Jack Shilling will remain unsolved.

It's a quiet afternoon in mid-January at Wammy's House. Rosalee is sitting in her room on the top floor, listening to calming classical while working on homework. She was passing the time until her grandfather came back. They were about to enjoy each other's company over tea, but he was called to pick up a child a little ways away. It's usually him and only him that bring children to Wammy's House. The child he's bringing apparently solved a case known as the Winchester Mad Bombings…and he was only eight years old. With a little help at Wammy's he could become a great detective in the future.

Rosalee finishes her homework and decides to pass the time by staring out her window, looking out for her grandfather while enjoying the light snow that is currently falling. As she watched the snow cover the ground and buildings her mind wonders off to her parents. She missed her mother terribly so…but she never gave a kind thought to her father. Before that horrible day of their deaths Jack Shilling was very mean to Rosalee. She remembered he was always rude and verbally abusive, but he never laid a hand on her…just call her foul names and lock her in her room, not letting her out to eat or use the bathroom. Unfortunately, her mother received all the physical abuse. Sometimes at night Rosalee would hear her father thrash out on her caring mother. It is to her understanding that her father only married her mother for her family's money. Since Anne was the daughter of a great inventor you would expect to live an easy life…but what Jack didn't know is that Anne and her father cut off all ties to each other for he didn't approve of her marriage. Anne thought that it didn't matter, but Jack made it very clear when they ran into debt. Rosalee's hopes of stopping her father was granted…she just wished that her mother didn't have to go too.

_I should've acted sooner, she thought sadly. She might still be-_

Before she could continue her thought she spotted her grandfather walking down the street. Beside him was a small boy that came up to Quillish's waist. Rosalee squints her eyes to get a better look at the boy, but they were too far away. So she waited, watching them make their way to the gate of Wammy's House. The boy was holding onto Quillish's hand tightly. This made Rosalee smile; she always thought every child here was like a grandchild to her papa.

They stopped in front of the gate. Rosalee focused on the boy a little closer now. She noticed that he was biting his thumb in between his lips. His untamed black hair was catching snowflakes, making the boy shake them off. This made Rosalee giggle as she continued to study the new student of Wammy's. His skin was extremely pale against his dark hair. Even though he was dressed in winter clothing the boy was shivering just a bit. Quillish reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, one of them being the key to the gate. He unlocked the gate and led the boy on through, closing the gate back before they proceeded inside.

Rosalee moves away from the window and leaves her room. She takes to the stairs, hurriedly skipping two stairs at a time until coming upon the last set of stairs. The front door faces this part of the staircase. Rosalee sat down on the top stair and waited. It didn't take long for the front door to open and Quillish to step through with the boy right beside him. Rosalee perked up and watched as her grandfather helped the boy out of his winter coat. After hanging up both their coats Quillish looks up and spots Rosalee sitting atop the stairs. He chuckles lightly as he smiles.

"Have you been waiting for me all this time atop the stairs?" he asked amused. Rosalee just smiled and answered, "No…I did my homework before waiting for you. I'm still craving tea!" Quillish just simply smiles as Rosalee descended the stairs at a fast pace. As she came closer he kneeled and pulled her into a big hug, picking her up off the floor so that her feet were dangling. Rosalee squeezed tightly, not caring that his skin was a little cold from the winter weather. Quillish gave one last reassuring squeeze before putting her back down on the ground.

"I'm afraid that I can't join you for tea right now…I must go have a chat with Roger immediately. Is that okay?" he asks as he brushes her bangs out of her face. Rosalee pouted for only a moment before nodding her head. Quillish gives her a kind smile. He turns to the boy still standing next to him. "If you'd like to you could accompany her to the kitchen for tea. I'm sure you will need to know where that is since that's where all the sweets are kept."

Rosalee shifted her eyes onto the boy. She meets the gaze of big gray eyes. They reminded her of clouds right before a thunderstorm, so dark and mysterious, but mesmerizing all the same. It made her feel like he was staring deeper than just her appearance…it was as if he was trying to read her thoughts. This didn't intimidate her. She just stared back, waiting for his answer.

The boy breaks his eye contact as he looks back at Quillish. He nods his head. Quillish smiles. "Good…She will show you to the kitchen. I will join the both of you shortly." Quillish turns towards his granddaughter. "Don't eat all the cake. You also have a bit of a sweet tooth. Save a piece for me at least." Rosalee giggles. "I don't have _that _much of a sweet tooth! But I will save you a piece all the same." Quillish pats her head, making her messy pigtails wobble. He walks on ahead until reaching Roger's office. He knocks and pauses for a moment before opening the door and entering.

All is silent between Rosalee and the boy. Those dark gray eyes are once again staring at Rosalee…only this time they have a certain sparkle of curiosity. His finger was between his lips again and his other hand was stuffed inside his pocket. He stood a little hunched over, making him seem a bit shorter than Rosalee. She couldn't help to feel a bit unsettled by his intense stare…but his mannerisms are enough push that feeling aside and catch her attention. Rosalee tilts her head and begins to twirl a strand of hair as she stared back at the boy. His eyes seem to widen when he realized that she was examining him. He down cast his eyes and turned his head away.

_Hmm…he doesn't like to be figured out_, Rosalee thought. A slight smirk curled on her lips before heading towards the kitchen. She stopped when she noticed that the boy wasn't following her. "Well," she called out, "if you want strawberry cake you'll have to follow me!" The boy tilted his head. He pulled his finger away from his lips and stuffed it into his other pocket. Still hunched over he walks over to Rosalee. When he gets just behind her, Rosalee begins to lead the way to the kitchen with the boy hot on her heels.

After traveling through a few hallways they finally reach the kitchen. Rosalee grabs a step latter and sets it in front of the sink. She fills a pot full of water, sets it on the burner of the stove, and turns on the heat. Next she puts a couple of teabags in a teapot. Then she gets a bowl of sugar cubes and honey and places them on the table in the corner of the kitchen. She opens the refrigerator and snatches a tiny pitcher of milk, placing it with the sugar and honey.

While Rosalee set everything up the boy took a seat at the table. The boy sat in a strange position; it looked like he was squatting in the chair. He hugged his knees close to his chest. His eyes followed Rosalee's movements as she went about the kitchen. Rosalee took no notice of the boy's haunting gaze as she poured boiling water into the teapot. She turns off the burner and brings the teapot to the table. "Only thing missing is cake!" she exclaims as she placed the step latter in front of the counter. She grabs a cake dish and the boy tilts his head again as he begins to bite his thumb.

Rosalee giggles at his reaction as she places the dish on the table. She quickly fetches two teacups and three plates and three sets of silverware, the third being for her grandfather's requested piece of cake. "The tea should be done by now," she declares as she pours some chai tea into the teacups. The boy picks his cup and takes a sip. He frowns at his cup as he set is down. Rosalee shakes her head. "Haven't you ever had chai tea?" she asks sweetly. The boy shakes his head, the messy black hair bobbed as he did so. "Chai tea is traditionally sweetened with honey and milk. Some people prefer sugar to honey…and since I don't know how you like your tea I brought both." Rosalee smiles as she grabbed the honey and began to spoon a good portion of it into her tea. The boy opts for the sugar cubes, adding two cubes at a time until half of the dish is empty. Rosalee pours some milk into her tea and offers some to the boy. He holds out his cup to her and allows her to pour some for him. Together they took a sip. This time the boy gives his cup a look of approval.

As the sipped their tea they both indulged into a delicious strawberry cake. It was frosted with white icing and eight strawberries decorated the top of it. Taking the cake spatula Rosalee began to cut the cake into eight pieces. While she did this the boy opts for more tea and pours some for Rosalee as well as himself. "Thank you," Rosalee said nicely, remembering that its good manners to thank someone. As she places a slice of cake on a plate she heard a soft voice answer, "You're welcome." Rosalee looked up. She saw that the boy was staring at her once again, but this time his eyes seemed to soften and his lips curled up in a grin. Rosalee smiled back as she placed another piece of cake for the boy. Together they raised their forks and dug into the sugary treat.

While Rosalee was halfway through her cake the boy finished his and helped himself to another piece of cake. By the time she was done and ready for another piece the boy was already beginning his third piece. _And papa says that I have a bit of a sweet tooth_? Rosalee thought to herself as she saw that the cake from the dish was half gone. _This_ _boy's whole mouth is filled with sweet teeth!_ She watched amazed as the boy finished his third piece and helped himself to another piece. When Rosalee was finished with her second piece she placed another into the third plate for her grandfather. This left one last piece. "Would you like the last piece?" Rosalee offered the boy. The boy looked at the piece of cake while his finger tapped his lips. His eyes shift over to Rosalee and he nods his head. _Dear God…he's going to ruin his dinner!_ Rosalee thought worriedly, but she still put the last piece on his plate. While the boy devoured his fifth piece of cake Rosalee poured what was left of the tea into their teacups.

When they were done Rosalee grabbed the dishes and headed towards the sink. When she got there she realized that she couldn't reach the sink without the step latter. "Darn it…I always forget to get the latter before taking the dishes. I seem to forget that I'm short," she muttered to herself. A screeching of a chair sliding on the floor made her look back. The boy walked across the kitchen, grabbed the step latter, and placed it in front of the sink. Rosalee nodded at him before climbing up and placing the dishes at their appropriate place. When she descended the step latter she sees the boy hunched over once more, one hand in his pocket while the other had its index finger playing with his lips.

They faced each other, neither one backing down as their eyes bore into each other. The boy now had that curious glint in his eyes. Rosalee found this intriguing and returned his gaze with more obvious glare by leaning forward. The boy flinched back a bit, but he didn't break eye contact with Rosalee. "Why do you keep staring at me? Hmm?" Rosalee asked as she narrowed her eyes. The boy did not answer…he just continued to stare. Rosalee sighed and turned away from him. _He may be new, but it's still annoying and rude to stare_, she thought as she began to walk away.

"Why do you think I'm staring at you?" the boy called out. His voice was soft and strong. Rosalee stopped and turned back. The boy stood still, waiting for her answer. _Ah…I see what you're doing_, Rosalee thought slyly. She smiled and looked in the boy's eyes as she answered. "I think you're trying to figure me out by studying my actions. You're also testing me, seeing if I can be intimidated or easily manipulated."

The boy just stared at her for a moment…then he blinked as his eyes shifted sideways, staring off into the ground. "Well done…I see that man wasn't exaggerating when he said that this place was for exceptionally brilliant children," he said matter-of-factly.

"Of course! This is Wammy's House. It's here that they'll cater to your unique mind and talents," Rosalee said proudly.

"Mm…and what is your unique talent?" the boy asked curiously.

"Well, I'm a dancer." The boy looked up and tilted his head. "I know it's not as impressive as some things…but it's what I love. I'm sure that's what you're here for," she said as she approached the boy. He removed his finger from his lips and scratched the back of his head. "Yes…Mr. Wammy said that I can possibly be a prodigy in the detective world," he said softly.

Rosalee smiled at the mention of her grandfather. "He is a great man. You'll come to learn that in time."

"You seem very close to him…are you by any chance related to him?"

"Can't get anything by you, huh?" Rosalee said teasingly. For a split second she thought he was going to laugh, but he held it back. Letting out a short giggle Rosalee said, "Yes, I am Mr. Wammy's granddaughter."

"Isn't Wammy's House supposed to be an orphanage?" the boy asked dully.

Rosalee stiffened but she didn't falter. "Yes, it is…my parents were murdered and my grandfather was the nearest living relative. So, I'm not technically an orphan."

"Your parents were murdered? Did they catch the culprit?" the boy asked seriously. Rosalee shook her head. "No…it's unsolvable," she said warily, looking down at her feet. She heard the boy's feet shuffle across the floor. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up she met the startling gray gaze of the boy. His eyes glistened with the slightest of sadness while determination swam in those gray pools.

"I bet you that I could probably figure it out…and bring the murderer to justice."

Rosalee's eyes widened. "You? No, you don't have to…even my grandfather believes it to be unsolvable. It's just simply impossible to crack that case."

Before the boy could reply Quillish walked into the kitchen. He looked at the two children with a warm smile. "I see you've become acquainted nicely." He glances over at the sink and chuckles. "And you ate all the cake! I told you not to eat too much."

"I didn't!" she said as she vigorously shook her head.

"I did," the boy said boldly.

Quillish laughed hardily. "Did you at least save me a piece?"

"Yes! It's right here!" Rosalee said excitedly as she ran over to the table and handed the plate of cake to her grandfather. He takes the plate and pats Rosalee's head. "Ah, thank you. I'm going to leave it down here for a second while I show our new student his room. And I do believe that you need to have ballet practice." Rosalee nods happily and starts for the door. When she gets to the doorframe she stops in her tracks and turns back to look at the boy.

"Even though we just had tea and light conversation together…I do not know your name."

"I don't know yours either," the boy answered back lightly.

"Rosalee."

"L."

Rosalee nodded. "Nice to meet you, L."

"And you, Rosalee," he said softly before shifting his gaze to the side.

As Rosalee walked down the hallway she couldn't stop thinking about the boy…especially his name. _It's not a name…it's a letter! _She shook her head. Even though his "name" was probably fake the boy himself was a unique character. Rosalee smiled to herself. She had a feeling that Wammy's House just got a lot more interesting now that L entered its hallways.

* * *

_So, how was that? I found it a bit difficult to write out L's character. i believe he was a bit different at the age of eight, but still had those similarities we all adore in the manga/anime. i hope it was okay. but i won't know that until you review! please?_


	4. Chapter 3: 3:49pm

**Timekeeper10:** I'm so glad i got L in character! I had a tough time writing that put because it wasn't the L we all know and love...it was little L. lol and thank for your review! in return i'll review your story.

**Hilarious-Mayhem:** thank you! I really like little L...he's so cute. ^-^

**A/n:** FINALLY! i got off my lazy ass to type out this chapter. Im sad to say that there will be no L for a while. :( BUT...another familiar character makes an appearance. I was thinking that I couldn't possibly write this story without including this guy! for this reason...SPOILER ALERT!!! if you haven't read Death Note: Another Note, then you should! lol and this chappie will spoil it big time. just warning ya! now that i've said that im sure you know who im talking about. hehe! anyways, read on and i hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 3: 3:49pm**

_Three years later._

It was a rainy day at Wammy's House. Rosalee has taken refuge in the library. Even though there is no loud noises allowed the librarian lets Rosalee get away with playing classical music, as long as it was at a decent volume. All the other children were scattered about the house, playing with toys and being restless. That alone distracts her from practicing her ballet basics. She was hoping to find someone to have tea with on this gloomy Sunday(1), but her papa is busy and L is no where to be found.

A smirk crossed her face as she thought about her unique classmate. L and Rosalee do not have any classes together, but they do have tea together almost every day. Rosalee was still confused as to why he insisted on having tea with her. She was nothing special like him, but she did notice that he didn't have very many friends at Wammy's House. When you're studying to become the world's greatest detective you wouldn't really have time to make friends. So for the past three years Rosalee has been keeping him company, hoping it gave him a bit of solace in his elective loneliness.

She was almost done reading "Of Mice and Men" when she heard the librarian scold someone for bringing food into the library. Looking up she spots a boy about her age sitting in an armchair with a chessboard lying in front of him. In his hands is an empty jar. The contents of the jar must have been red since the boy's lips are covered in a gooey red substance. _Strawberry jam_, Rosalee silently mused as a smirk grows across her face. The librarian stalks away with the jar in hand. The boy doesn't seem to mind as he greedily licked his fingertips. Rosalee tried to stifle a giggle but failed miserably as it took her giggle sounded more like a hiccup.

The boy looked over at her. His eyes reminded Rosalee of L's relentless stare…but these eyes held a dark, almost sinister gleam. The boy's appearance was different from L's a little bit…short black hair covered his head neatly and his skin held the slightest tint of tan. He tilted his head, staring at Rosalee from across the room. Then his lips twisted into a smile. This made Rosalee feel a bit uncomfortable. Something about that smile seemed sadistic. He motions his head at the chessboard on the table. Rosalee's eyebrows burrow in thought. She's never seen this boy around the house or in any of her classes. One fault of Rosalee's is her insatiable curiosity. So, she puts her book aside and strides across the room to the strange boy.

She takes a seat across from the boy, the chessboard in between them. The boy stares hard at her, his eyes narrow, then they suddenly widen. It's almost as if he's astounded…about what Rosalee can't say. But when she looked at the boy she gasped. His eyes seemed to be glowing slightly red. Rosalee thought she might be going mad. The boy closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again they looked like normal coal black eyes…but a red tint was still embedded in the irises.

_You only imagined them glowing_, Rosalee's logically mind reasoned.

_But why are they __**still**__ slightly red?_

As that question rang through her head the boy pulled out the chess pieces. He designated himself and Rosalee white. He looks up expectantly; it seems Rosalee will make the first move. They sat in deep thought, contemplating in the game and their opponent. But every time Rosalee glanced across the board those disturbing eyes were still there. It's not her imagination and soon she was contemplating her opponent past the present game. This didn't distract her of course. She managed to take one of his pieces.

"Check," she called out quietly. The boy looked up at her. His eyes focused at a point above her head for a moment before looking back down at the board.

"You're strange," the boy said calmly as he made his next move. This took Rosalee by surprise, distracting her momentarily from the game. She began to twirl a piece of her hair hanging free from her messy pigtails before continuing her move. "If that's your method of winning then I'm sorry to say that it won't work," she said confidently. She gazed at the boy's bowed head, daring him to continue his dirty trick. He made his move before meeting her gaze. "I'm not using a method…I'm just stating fact, incase you don't know," he answered seriously.

Rosalee nodded her head. "I suppose I am a bit strange…but the fact I'm not aware of is _why_ I am strange. Could you enlighten me?" She made her move on the chessboard before glaring at him, waiting for his answer.

"I can't see your lifespan."

"What?" Rosalee arches an eyebrow in confusion.

"Your lifespan. It's the exact date and time of your death. I can see everyone else's floating just above their heads, but you…it's missing," he simply explained as he made a sneaky move on the chessboard. "Check," he called dully.

Rosalee tilted her head in befuddlement. What this boy just said sounded like complete nonsense, but she decided to humor him. Maybe it will make more sense if he elaborated more. "So you see life spans?"

"Yes. I can also see people's true names right above their life spans. So, if they're using an alias I will be aware of it."

"Ah, and can you see my name?"

"Yes, Rosalee Alessandra Wammy, I can. What confuses me is why you don't have a lifespan accompanying that name."

Rosalee shook her head, as if to shake out all the muddled thoughts from her mind. He knew her name…but it's not hard to figure out that she's related to the man who founded this house. She regarded him coldly, thinking that he's just trying to scare her. "Well, that's rude. You know my name and I don't know yours. And how am I supposed to believe what you're saying?"

"I don't have a name…or at least I don't remember what my parents named me. When Mr. Wammy took me here they gave me the name B."

"B?" She crinkled her nose._ First L and now B…why do people think that's a real name?_

"Yes. B is for Backup. It's all I'm seen as here," he said grimly. His hands clenched into fists for a split second. Rosalee twirls her hair, bypassing what he just said. "Well then, B, how do I know you're not pulling my leg?"

B shifts his eyes to the side as he ponders. Then he lifts his head up as he stares at the librarian. His eyes suddenly glow bright red. Rosalee jumps back in her chair. _So, I didn't imagine it_. A part of her wishes she did. B closes his eyes and turns his head back to Rosalee. When he opens them they are back to their original state, black and slightly red. "That librarian…we know her as Mrs. Pennyweather, but her real name is Dolores Ingram. And it just so happens that she'll die in the next three days at 3:49pm. If she dies then you'll have to believe me."

Rosalee blinks. "Really? I guess we shall see then." She takes her turn on the board. B studies her carefully. "You seem very calm about this," he stated as he moves a chess piece to claim one of her own. Rosalee sighs. "Believe me, this sounds like poppycock. But you seem sincere about it. And I must admit that it's very curious if what you're claiming is true."

"It is true…but what's still more curious is why you don't have a lifespan."

"Am I the first person you've seen without a lifespan?"

"Yes. I can only see the name and lifespan of humans. With animals I see nothing. You don't look like an animal to me," he said matter-of-factly. He looks around her, as if to spot a tail or hidden fur underneath her clothing. Rosalee giggles at his actions. "I'm no animal silly! And I'm quite human. You'll have to find a better explanation than that!"

B bites his lip and squints his eyes as he ponders deeply. Rosalee smiles as she reviews the chessboard. She strategically placed her queen, hoping that his next move will allow her to make the winning move. As she placed her piece B's eyes widened. Rosalee thought he spotted her plan on the board. He shifts his eyes and focuses on her face.

"I have concocted a theory. You see, while I see everyone's name and lifespan I cannot see my own. I've always thought it was because I had these eyes…but what if it's not that? What if I cannot see those who have the same eyes mine?"

"That's a good theory," Rosalee said, relieved that he didn't catch on to her move. "But one problem…I don't have your eyes."

"Hmm..." B brings his hand up and rests his head on his palm. "That is true…you're eyes aren't like mine."

"What are your eyes anyway?"

"I've always thought of them as supernatural," he answered as he made a move on the board. Rosalee grinned as she moved another piece. _Just one more move for the win. _

"Are you supernatural in any way?" B asked.

This caught Rosalee off guard. She kept her head down as she spoke. "Of course not." She twirled her hair nervously, keeping her eyes low.

B studies her with his calculating black eyes. He looks down at the board and makes one last move. "Stalemate," he states dully. Rosalee rounded on the board. She thought she had the win, but she didn't spot the move that would stale the game. "I don't believe you're being truthful, Rosalee. You're supernatural aren't you?"

Rosalee meets his eyes, ocean blue washing over hot coal. "If what you're saying is true…then you will find the answer to that."

B chuckles. "It seems neither of us can win," he says as he waves his hand over the board and themselves. Rosalee cracks a smile at his comment. B places all the pieces back to their starting positions. "Shall we play again?" he asked innocently, his eyes gleaming playfully.

"No, thank you. I must be going now. Homework isn't going to do itself unfortunately."

"Wouldn't be lovely if it could?" B gathers the chess pieces and puts them up in the table's drawer. "When the librarian dies just meet me in the attic. We can talk privately there."

"_If_ she dies," Rosalee says as she points her finger at him. B shakes his head. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny jar. The label reads "Raspberry Jam". Rosalee giggles lightly. "You better be careful…she'll kick you out," she warned as she stood up.

"I don't care. We won't have to deal with her after she's dead, so might as well break the rules."

Rosalee eyes him warily as he gulps down the jam. _Geez…it seems that boys with one letter names have an insatiable sweet tooth!_ Rosalee rolls her eyes as she goes to retrieve her book. As she walked out she said softly, "It was nice meeting you, B. Maybe next time I'll beat you in chess."

"Yeah right," he said with a smile on his sticky pink lips. It would've been adorable if it weren't for his eyes…that just made it seem scary and a bit creepy. But Rosalee shrugged off the urge to shiver as she exited the library. B watched as she walked off. She intrigued him…she puts off that she's normal, but a certain kind of mysteriousness shines through her eyes. _She's hiding something…that much I can tell. I'll find out soon enough_, he thought as he licked his fingers clean.

At that moment the librarian stomps over and scolds him for breaking the rules again. As she was giving him a last warning B heard a soft, muffled noise behind him. He had no doubt in his mind that it was laughter from a blue-eyed girl that almost beat him in chess.

* * *

Three days have past since Rosalee met B in the library. She was just now getting out of her last class at 3:30pm. Half running, half walking to her room she hurriedly put her books up and grabbed "Of Mice and Men" to return to the library after she finished reading it. That wasn't all why she was going to the library…she was curious to see if B was telling the truth.

His little "eyes" sound ludicrous at first. A couple days after the meeting B, Rosalee asked her grandfather if the librarians real name was Dolores Ingram. He answered quite calmly, but she can tell that he was very surprised that she knew that. It was really her name…Mrs. Pennyweather was an alias for security purposes. When he questioned where she heard her real name Rosalee quickly lied that she overheard a conversation the librarian was having over the phone.

But there's always a chance that B overheard the librarian saying her real name. That conversation in the library could've been cleverly planned. _I won't know until his prediction is proven true_, she thought clearly as she stepped through the library doors. Dolores Ingram a.k.a Mrs. Pennyweather was behind the front desk, typing away on the computer. She looked up as Rosalee entered and smiled. Rosalee smiled back before taking a seat in an armchair across from the front desk. If she did so happen to die Rosalee didn't want to be involved. After what happened to her parents she's always tried to stay away from police.

Rosalee checked her pocket watch her grandfather let her borrow every now and then. It's currently 3:40pm…nine minutes before Mrs. Pennyweather dies. _Supposedly_, Rosalee reminded herself as she opened her book to the right place. As she read she kept a watchful eye on the time and the librarian. She could hardly keep up with her book for something was building up inside of her. Anxiety? No…it was anticipation. Even though a librarian was suppose to die in less than ten minutes she couldn't help to feel excited. Because if B's eyes were real then Rosalee reasons that she isn't alone. She shuts her eyes as a distant memory tries to invade her mind. She forces it into the back of her mind, where is always sits, and clears her thoughts for the task at hand.

She flips open the pocket watch. The little hand is just past the number three, eager to point at the four, while the big hand rests on the second mark before the ten. The seconds hand is just passing six. _Thirty more seconds_. Rosalee watches the librarian, feeling excitement drain a little while fear took up the vacancy. The thought of warning Mrs. Pennyweather crosses her mind, but her body was immobilized by the rising anticipation. Her eyes dropped to the pocket watch. _Ten seconds…nine…eight…_, she began to count down mentally. She allowed herself one last look at Mrs. Pennyweather, wishing her goodbye before looking down right as the big hand shifts over to the next mark.

3:49pm.

A choking noise startles Rosalee. She jerked her head up to see Mrs. Pennyweather hunched over the front desk. One of her hands is reaching for the phone while the other clutches at her chest. Her eyes gaze across the library, helplessly searching for someone to assist her. Rosalee's mind was screaming at her to get up, speak, _anything_…but her body was frozen in place by fear. A familiar sensation she felt the day her parents died coursed through her body. She braced herself for the worst to come, but then Mrs. Pennyweather collapsed on the desk. The phone hung off its cradle, a bust tone blaring from it as it dangled from side-to-side. Mrs. Pennyweather's eyes were motionless, no longer searching for the help she desperately needed. They stared at Rosalee, accusing her of her sudden demise.

Rosalee's breathe grew frantic. She didn't want to believe that Mrs. Pennyweather was dead, but the truth was glaring at her. Her body remained frozen, unable to remove herself from the armchair to call for help. Her mind was numb, no thoughts could form coherently. Only one action came to mind that could broke her from this shocked state.

She screamed. The high pitched sound rang throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and making it echo. When she could scream no more Rosalee shot off the armchair and ran for the door. All she could think about is leaving this room, just as she did her home in Brighton. She pulled the door open quickly and began to run. She didn't know where she was going until she remembered what B said.

_When the librarian dies just meet me in the attic. We can talk privately there._

Rosalee skirted the corner of the hallway, making her feet run fast. Luckily, there was no one around to witness this hysteria, or else they would suspect her…or think her mad. Either way she wouldn't let them slow her down from her destination. She needed answers…a confirmation that she wasn't the only supernatural person alone in the world.

* * *

_(1): Funny how Rosalee met B on a day very much like the day Rezso Seress wrote a song titled "Gloomy Sunday." It was soon known as the Hungarian Suicide Song for it was believed that the song was so depressing and soul wrenching that people would kill themselves just minutes after hearing it...that's an urban legend of course. i had to put some kind of death reference lingering wherever B is...it is B after all. lol_

_So, how was this chappie? Rosalee's shady past to coming to light now...anyone have any guesses? and how was B? it was again a bit hard having him character...mostly because im having to guess his character. lol **please review!** i would like to know if i should continue this story. and reviews are delicious...they taste like marshmellows. ^-^_


	5. Chapter 4: A Supernatural Bond

**A/n: **I am so sorry that it took so long to post this. Between a hard break with my boyfriend and TWO relatives dying on the same day (only something like that would happen to me x.x) really distrated me. But i got my motivation back by buying the first volume of Death Note on DVD and im ready to continue the story of Rosalee. YAYYYYYYY *cough* so im going to stop talking and let you read on! *snoopy dances*

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**Chapter 4: A Supernatural Bond**

Rosalee's footsteps echoed harshly as she pounded up the stairs, taking no time to waste as she headed for the top floor of Wammy's House. When she climbed the last stairwell she bolted for the door that led the way to the attic. Jerking the door open she immediately rushed up to vast open space. The air held the scent of dust, moldy and dry, which tickled her nose. She looked around wildly for B, the boy with the gleaming red eyes.

"Over here," she heard a voice call near the left corner. When she looked over all she saw was a stack of boxes that ended at the ceiling, but as she walked over and peaked behind the boxes she spotted the boy she met three days ago. B was sitting with his legs crossed with his thumb in between his lips, very much like how L does when he's contemplating. He shifted his gaze at Rosalee. A grin, so deviant and chilling, spread across his face like a plague upon the world. His eyes slightly glowed red, making his triumphant smile take on a more sinister effect. "I told you so," he said gleefully.

Rosalee gulped down her fear and took a deep long breath. She sat down next to B, who was still smiling like the devil. "Yes…you were right. At exactly 3:49pm Mrs. Pennyweather died," she admitted quietly, "and I did nothing about it."

The deviant grin on B's face disappeared, as if it was wiped off. His red eyes dimmed as he stared at Rosalee grimly. "What could you've done to prevent her death? Tell someone she's going to die? Or were you thinking about telling Mrs. Pennyweather?" He tilted his head as he waited for her response. Rosalee stared back at the weird boy helplessly. "I could've done _something_," she said desperately. "Maybe I should've told Mrs. Pennyweather, or called for help right before her death and they could've saved her!"

"And what would you have told them if they asked you how you knew about her future death? A boy who can see everyone's lifespan told you so?" B lets out a sarcastic chuckle. "They would think you're mad…or just trying to pull a prank." Rosalee casts her eyes down at her knees, trying hard to hold back tears of frustration. B reaches his hand over and places it on her shoulder, making her feel a little bit comforted. "Adults don't believe anything that's not logical," B said softly. "Believe me…I've tried to so something about the deaths surrounding me."

"No one believed you?" Rosalee asked as she lifted her face back up, focusing her eyes on B.

B shook his head. "No one…the police didn't believe that my dad was going to be attacked by a thug and die. They thought I was just another kid prank calling. And my mother thought I was just trying to get her to stay with me instead of going on a train that would crash and kill her. So, I've learned to just endure it."

Rosalee placed her hand atop of his on her shoulder. B's eyes widened and she felt his fingers tense under her touch. _He's not used to sympathy and comfort_, Rosalee thought sadly. "It must be horrible…to be surrounded by death every single day. If it were me I couldn't stand it!" she exclaimed, letting her first real laugh of the day escape her lips. B smirked and his fingers relaxed on her shoulder before removing his hand. "It's not too bad," he said languidly as he brought his thumb to his lips. "I view every death I see as a little reminder floating above their heads."

"A reminder of what?"

"That every human will eventually die. It's inevitable. And there's nothing that neither you nor anyone can do about it."

"Wow…that's depressing."

B let out a snort of laughter. "Yeah…but it's true."

"But what about you and me? If we don't have a lifespan are we destined to die like everyone else?"

"I don't know…we'll find out, won't we?" B winks at Rosalee as a small devilish grin creeps up on his lips. Rosalee returns the smile. Even though she thought B was dark, strange, and a tad bit creepy she knew that was all he knew how to be, how he grew up…and that he was just as brilliant as any other kid here. She trusts her grandfather's judgment and decides at that moment to be B's friend. _After all, we aren't all that different_, she mused internally.

"Well, at least you're here. You'll amount to something while you're at Wammy's," she said fondly. B's eyes flashed red for a second before he broke eye contact with Rosalee. "I don't know about that…like I said before I'm only a backup for one of Wammy's top students," he states, his voice dripping with disgust. Rosalee raised an eyebrow in confusion as she began to twirl a piece of her hair. "A backup? For whom?"

"L Lawliet." B let the name slip out of his lips harshly. Rosalee's eyes widened in surprise. "So, his real name is L? It's not an alias?" she asked disbelievingly. B looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Yes…it is. And I am his shadow. A mere copy of the original. They make it sound like I'm going to fail no matter how hard I try. And they scold me when I try to excel past L. I can never be better than him as long as I'm in his shadow."

"Hmm…that does sound frustrating," Rosalee observed. They sat in silence for a few moments, both of them in deep thought. B's mind was fuming over his pitiful situation. He couldn't help to feel pure angry every time he thought about it. If they would just see him as himself for once, not L's little copy; he would prove to them that he was just as good as and maybe even better than L. _If only there was some way to surpass him…then maybe I could take his place. I will never end up the way A did. I'm stronger than that. If only there was some-_

"Why don't you find something L is not so good at and excel in that," Rosalee said, cutting B from his thoughts. He looked over at her curiously. She had head tilted while her finger was busy with a strand of hair from her messy pigtails. "What do you mean? Explain," he commanded. Rosalee gave him a warm smile. "If you excel in one subject that L isn't too good at then you'll be noticed and surpass him in something you're good at. The only way a copy can be destroyed is if the copy is different. Does that make sense?"

B's fingers play with his lips while his mind is at work taking in Rosalee's reasoning. His black hellish eyes regard her appraisingly. He didn't really know how smart she was until now. He nods his head in approval. "Yes…I suppose you're right. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you don't think for a solution…you think of challenges that could possibly make you or break you."

"Damn…you've figured me out!" he exclaimed, exaggerating his statement by shaking his fist playfully. Rosalee giggled. "What can I say? I'm really good at that." B narrowed his eyes at her as he remembered why he wanted to meet her. _She has no lifespan._

"If I recall correctly, you said that I would find out if you're supernatural when my statement about Mrs. Pennyweather was proven true."

Rosalee's bright face faltered a bit, but her eyes still held a certain sparkle of excitement. "Yes, I do recall, but before I tell you…you must promise me not to tell _anyone_."

"Pff! Like I have anyone that would believe me. Hell…I don't have very much people _to_ tell if I wanted to!"

Rosalee raised an eyebrow at him as she crosses her arms. B rolls his eyes. "Alright…I promise I won't tell anyone. Cross my heart and hope to die." Rosalee studied him for a moment, making sure his words were genuine and honest. Then she closed her eyes as she prepared herself to tell a secret she hasn't told anyone before. "Well, I am as you put it supernatural. I can move things just by thinking about it."

"Move things?" B questioned confusingly.

"Yes. The correct term is psychokenisis. I've done some research and I found that some believe mental power can be manipulated to do a number of things. Mine happens to be psychokenisis, the ability to move objects mentally."

"Huh…at least your power is a lot more useful than mine," B said thoughtfully.

Rosalee sighed. "You would think so…but I'm afraid many people would freak out when a plate of cake floats to my hands."

B chuckles. "I guess you've learned to hide it as well?"

"Actually, no. I haven't used it since I moved here when I was five. My first time using it was my last time. But every now and then I feel it rush through my veins. I just always reasoned that a floating plate of cake wouldn't be normal in this world."

"Yeah…I suppose you're right. Why have you only used your ability once? If I had that power I'd abuse it so much that I would be reduced to a lazy lump in a chair, bringing jars of jam without lifting a finger!" B's eyes glow softly as a dreamy expression displays across his face. _He must really love jam…but I can't talk. I eat cake almost every day!_ Rosalee giggled at her internal thought. This broke B from his jam fantasy.

"I've only used it one because…something bad happened. It's like I couldn't control what I was doing. It scared me, so I've been keeping this power hidden. I don't ever want to use it to destroy ever again."

B nods his head. "That's understandable. But you might want to start using it again."

"Why?" Rosalee asked cautiously.

"If you continue to use it you'll be able to control it more easily. That way you won't witness anything like that destruction you've mentioned. I've learned to make the names and life spans dim down a bit…they're still there and I can still see them, but they're not so bright or noticeable. I do need to work on the physical display of my eyes." His eyes begin to glow bright red as an example. "It's come to my attention that my emotions can sometimes get the better of me and my eyes reflect them. I don't want to give people another reason to look down on me."

"That is true. Your eyes are pretty malicious when you first see them when they're glowing like that. But when they're not glowing your eyes are still slightly red."

"Are they really? He asked surprised. "Huh…I've never took the time to examine my eyes. I had no idea that I was really creepy." He shrugs. "Oh well."

Rosalee give him a humorous smile before pondering about his advice. This power scared her, but the only way to harness it is to use it until she's mastered it. Rosalee sighs. "I guess you're right…I need to embrace this and get it under control."

"Can I see it?" B asks hopeful. Rosalee's eyebrows shoot up her forehead. She nibbles on her bottom lip while her fingers furiously twirl her hair. "I don't know…I haven't used it for five years. What if I mess up and something bad happens?"

"You won't ever know 'til you try."

* * *

_So, what do you think of Rosalee's secret? REVIEW!!! i need something to read/make me feel special while im making cosplay for Animazement. And the more reviews the faster I write! so please...*bows head* Review!_


	6. Chapter 5: Intriguing

_A/N: Three year later...I finally get a computer and pick up where I left off. _

**Chapter 5: Intriguing**

Rosalee inhaled deeply and holds her breath for a second before exhaling. "Fine…I'll try. But if the building explodes I'm blaming it all on you."

"I don't see how that's fair…but okay. It's worth it to witness this," B said brightly. Rosalee sighs, her shoulders rising as she does so. She looks around the room, trying to find something to move that could prove to be impressive. Her eyes come across an old teddy bear wedged into one of the numerous boxes in the attic. She closed her eyes, concentrating hard to summon her ability. A light vibration surged through her body as she felt it reach out. It was a soft and yielding touch, unlike the destructive one she felt five years ago. With a single thought she reached far across the room and flipped the top of the box off. It landed with a loud clatter on the floor.

B shot his head toward the noise. He crawled over to where Rosalee was sitting and peeked around the box hiding him. It is then he saw a brown teddy bear, dust covering its artificial fur, float out of the box. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in shock. Rosalee giggled at his reaction. This made her power shiver a bit, causing the bear to shake softly. Some of the dust flew off of it. This roused Rosalee's curiosity; she began to think, controlling her powers as she made the bear shake in mid-air again. Soon all the dust that covered the bear sprinkled the floor below it.

"Make it do other things," B requested softly.

"Like what?" Rosalee's eyes had that familiar sparkle of childish curiosity.

"I don't know…make it dance since you're a dancer."

Rosalee bite her bottom lip. Due to her lack of using her natural "gift" she's already beginning to feel weak. She pushes this aside, for her curious side demands that she continue. With her mind she began to form a ballet routine, a very simple one since a teddy bear can only do so much. The bear began to pirouette across the air, as if there was an invisible dance floor beneath it. It paused and landed in first position before pointing its foot and raising its arms in an arabesque. Rosalee thought of the next move and the bear followed suit, performing a perfect split leap. _Okay, enough of this_, Rosalee thought as she willed the bear to curtsy. B clapped his hands. "That was the most marvelous dance I've ever seen performed by a teddy!"

Rosalee playfully slaps his shoulder. "That's the _only_ time you've seen a teddy dance!"

"How do you know? This could've been my fifth time seeing a teddy bear do something strange."

Rosalee shakes her head. This makes the bear shake its stuffed head as well. "Ah, you see…the bear agrees with me," she said jokingly. She brought the bear across the room towards them. It landed at her knees, standing on his feet all by itself. Rosalee reached out grabbed the bear, bringing it to her chest. As she let the power fade out her body slouched over her legs, exhausted from her little experiment. B regarded her cautiously. "Hey…are you alright?"

"Yeah…just tired."

"Hmm. Yes, I guess it would make sense you would after not using your supernatural talents for an extensive time."

Rosalee nodded in agreement as she lifted herself from her crouched position. "At least now I can wield it without destroying anything!" she exclaimed hopefully. She flung out her arms, letting the teddy bear fall to her lap, as she wrapped them around B's neck. B flinched back from the close contact, but Rosalee pulled him tighter into her embrace. "Thank you, B. At least now I know I'm not alone," she said gratefully next to his ear. B awkwardly placed his arms around her; not knowing exactly if that's what he was supposed to do, for it was his first hug. Rosalee retreats from him after a few moments. She had a joyous smile on her face. _It's as if she found a long lost trinket…or a piece of cheesecake if my impression of her is correct. _

B reflected her smile as a feeling unknown to him grew inside of him. It felt like he knew exactly what she meant…how she feels. _I believe there is a word for that_, his mind mused. _Empathy. You also thought you were alone, the only one different in the world_. B placed a reassuring hand on Rosalee's shoulder. "You will never be alone again," he said quietly, partly telling this to himself. Rosalee's eyes begin to moisten, but she holds back her tears of joy.

"That's good. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to about this. And we might be able to find other people like us…if there are any like us."

B lightly chuckles. "That reminds me…after meeting you in the library I saw someone else here with no lifespan. And now that I've seen your powers, it must mean that he's also supernatural."

"Really?! Who is he?"

"The name should sound familiar to you…well, except the surname since everyone here insists on using an alias. He's a dance student like yourself…his name is Brian Buckling."

The name instantly brings to mind a boy that's a couple years older than Rosalee. She recognizes him as one of her fellow classmates (and "dance-mates" as the dance students like to call themselves) that occasionally accompanies her in pas de deux. He goes by Brian Billenger in class. B surveys her shocked expression. "Ah, I see you know who I'm talking about."

"Yes, I do. Have you tried to talk to him like you did to me?"

"Negative."

"Why not?"

"He didn't intrigue me," he said plainly, as if that was a plausible excuse.

"Intrigue you?" Rosalee questioned sharply. "He had no lifespan! That should've been intriguing enough!"

"Well, yes, but everything else about him didn't intrigue me."

Rosalee tilted her head in confusion. "You only talk to people if they're intriguing?"

"Somewhat…that's why I invited you to play chess at first."

Rosalee crinkles her nose. "What could be so intriguing about me?"

"This right here is," he said as he reached his hand out and played with one of Rosalee's messy pigtails like a cat swatting at a flying bug. "Not many girls here wear their hair like that. And they don't dress like you either."

Rosalee looks down at her own attire. She was wearing a bright blue dress and black wool stockings covered her legs. White ballet slippers covered her feet. Her pigtails were being held in place by an assortment of colorful ribbons. Looking back up Rosalee shrugged her shoulders. "This is how I've always dressed."

"The fact that you believe your clothes are normal make you intriguing. Compared to the other female students your clothes stand out."

Rosalee sticks out her bottom lip in serious thought. "Hmm…I guess that's true. But I thought you called me over because of my lack of lifespan."

"I didn't see that until you sat in front of me…I wanted to know your name and that's when I saw, or didn't see your lifespan."

"Now that you mention it I did see your eyes glow when I sat down across from you. But getting back on subject…you should've talked to Brian! He might be like us. And if he is, then we should offer him our friendship. I'm sure he feels alone like we did until now."

B stared blankly at Rosalee for a moment. "Friendship?" he said hesitantly, as if he's never heard the word before.

"Yeah! You're my friend now, and I'm sure Brian would like some friends like him."

"I've never had friends before…I'm not too good at being social."

"You seem just fine to me!"

"Well, that's because you don't think I'm strange."

Rosalee shakes her head. "No…I do think you're strange. That's what makes you different. You_ intrigue_ me," she answered back, mimicking the same exact word he used a moment ago to describe her.

B smiles at her charming comment. "I see…well, I won't talk to that boy. I think you should. He's in your class and you see him more often than I do."

Rosalee nods. "You're right. I'll do it!" she says determinedly. She looks down at the teddy bear sitting in her lap. Concentrating hard she lets that slow vibration surge through her body as she gently lifted the bear up. She willed it to drift across the room until it hovered above the box it was trapped in. Rosalee suddenly cut off her power like scissors cutting a taunt ribbon. The teddy bear dropped into the box, making a muffled _thunk_ noise. She spotted the lid of the box and silently lifted it up and placed it back to its rightful place.

"That's another thing that intrigues me."

Rosalee looked over at B. He was biting his thumb, much like how L does, and his eyes slightly glow red with admiration. "You're the first and probably the only person that can do that."

"Ha! That's not intriguing…it's weird and abnormal."

"If that's the case then you and I are weird and abnormal."

Rosalee sticks out her tongue and pulls down her bottom right eye lid at him. B rolls his eyes at her childish reaction, but a slight smile stained his lips. "It's not so bad," he said softly. "I think it got better now that I'm not alone. Now, all I need to do to really make me happy is make these fools see me as _me_ instead of a backup."

"I told you what to do already!"

"I know…I'd have to look up on what his weakest subject is, but I don't know if that's satisfying enough."

Rosalee twirls a strand of hair thoughtfully. "Hmm…then how about changing your name?"

"Huh?" B said as he raised an eyebrow.

"You said that B stands for Backup…if you change your name to your liking than you won't be known as a backup. Perhaps if you give yourself a name that starts with B…I've already gotten used to calling you that and it does seem to suit you for some odd reason."

B scratched the back of his head as he thought it over. "Hmm. That would be nice to have an actual name. But what to name myself…now that's a hard one to decide."

"Just give it a little time. It will come to you."

"I suppose so." B's expression suddenly turns from thoughtful to alarm.

"What's wrong?" Rosalee asked concerned.

"How long have we been up here?"

Rosalee takes out her grandfather's pocket watch. She flips it open and gasps at the current time. "It's 5:06pm! We've been up here for over an hour!"

"They're probably looking for us. It's dinner time."

Right one queue Rosalee's stomach grumbles. "Damn. I'm late for tea and cake! I better hurry before-"

"It's alright, Rosalee. I didn't start without you."

Both B and Rosalee gaze over to where a new familiar voice spoke near the door. L stood there bare foot in his usual attire: blue jeans and stark white long sleeved shirt. He had his hands in his pockets and his posture was in its usual hunch. His black hair was a bit more untamed since Rosalee first met him three years ago. Storm gray orbs stare relentlessly at her and B, not showing any hint of emotion.

"Oh, L…you didn't have to wait for me!" Rosalee said apologetically.

"I wasn't waiting. When I didn't see you in the kitchen I started to look for you. Some people said you were last seen at the library…in which Mrs. Pennyweather died of a heart attack. When I looked in there I found the book you were reading on the floor. Someone also said that they heard a girl scream a little before they found Mrs. Pennyweather dead, and then running footsteps up the stairs."

Rosalee blinked in awe after all the babble of deduction was over. "How'd you know I was here then?"

"I guessed," L said dully as he shrugged his shoulder.

"Well then, you didn't have to look for me! I'm just fine."

"That's another thing," B suddenly said thoughtfully.

"Huh?" Rosalee looks back at B. L just continues to stare. B stares back at L for a moment before glancing over at Rosalee. "You love to eat exceeding amounts of sweets and cake. And you mostly drink chai tea. Most girls would get sick from that much sweets and don't really care for the strong taste of chai."

Rosalee rolls her eyes. "And you drink jars of jam like they're a cuppa Earl Grey."

"I'd hate to interrupt, but everyone is looking for you. It's dinner time and we still need to have our cake and tea," L said informingly. He was still staring at B. His eyes took on a strange flash of emotion…was it anger? Rosalee could not tell, but when she turned to B he was also staring, mirroring the same emotion in his black red eyes.

"Well, B, I must go now. I will see you around some time. I'm still waiting for the chess rematch!" she said as she poked his shoulder. He broke his eye contact with L and looked over at her. "Yes…I will see you soon," he said softly. Rosalee stood up, brushed off her dress and legs, and walked over to the original he was trying to copy. As they exited the room L looked over his shoulder. B narrowed his eyes, daring him to say anything to him, but L turned his head and followed after Rosalee.

B sat there for a moment by himself. His eyes glowed red with hatred for a moment before he forced himself to calm down. He thought about Rosalee's advice: _Why don't find something L is not so good at and excel in it? If you change your name to your liking then you won't be known as a backup._

"Yes," he said aloud to the empty room, "that does make sense. But to be not seen as a backup I must change my name to L Lawliet. And the way I'll be noticed is if I successfully succeed L." He placed his thumb to his lips as a grin spread wickedly across his face. "If my logic is sound, then the only way I'll be noticed is to surpass L…or become a better L."

His eyes glowed proudly as he let out a loud, boisterous laugh. When his laughter died out he looked over at the spot where Rosalee was sitting moments ago, regarding it like she was still there, pigtails and all. "Ah yes, Rosalee…you certainly are intriguing. _Very_ intriguing."

* * *

_So, I know that this is a terrible late update. Sorry! ^^; _

_Now, for the big question: should I even bother with continuing this? I pretty much have everything planned out a bit except for the ending. I'm way too proud of this idea to just let it die unless it really doesn't interest people anymore. _

_Review! I will gift you with sugar cookie and Dr. Pepper! XD_


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